


Hop, Skip and a Jump

by DryDreams



Series: Like Rabbits [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Copious Amounts of Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, Lipstick, M/M, Martin Tops, Oral Sex, They love each other, Threesome - M/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, bratty Tim, established relationship of vague definition, jon is too, oops all trans!, playboy bunny Tim, vague mention of stomach bulging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/pseuds/DryDreams
Summary: “He’s going to rip those tights,” Jon says matter of factly. “Stockings would have been more sensible.”Tim scoffs, turning back to the mirror. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”He glances up to see Jon eyeing him rather skeptically up and down. His gaze lingers on Tim’s lipstick-red mouth for a moment before he smirks and says; “you won’t.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Series: Like Rabbits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983403
Comments: 21
Kudos: 219





	Hop, Skip and a Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Terms used for everyone's bits are dick/cunt !
> 
> also, check out the [ART](https://twitter.com/Ironic_memeing/status/1290014507633278976?s=20) that inspired this whole affair, it is incredible

“What do you think?”

Tim smooths his palms down the front of the glossy red playboy-style corset, twisting to look at himself from the side in their full length mirror. He glances up to meet Jon’s eyes in their reflection and strikes a little pose. 

Jon shuts his book but keeps a finger in it to mark his page. “It‘s very aesthetically pleasing,” he says, stretching a leg out leisurely and tipping his head back to knock gently against the headboard. Tim’s eyes linger on the exposed length of his throat for a moment before he drags them back to his face.

“I’m not a sofa, Jon.” He turns, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you think it’s _sexy?”_

Jon rolls his eyes affectionately and lazily drops his chin back down, a small smile gracing his lips. “You know you’re sexy. Martin will think so too. It suits you. The ears are a bit silly, I think... but it looks very nice.” 

“The ears, but not the tail?” Tim grins, doing a little wiggle, knowing Jon can see the little puffy thing in the mirror. 

“The tail is fun. I like the tail.” Jon pauses thoughtfully, biting at his lip. “I hope you don’t value those tights.”

“What!? Why?” Tim peers down at the fishnets with a frown. They’d been the cheapest part of the getup but he had already been considering other creative ways to use them. 

“He’s going to rip them,” Jon says matter of factly. “Stockings would have been more sensible.”

Tim scoffs, turning back to the mirror. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

He glances up to see Jon eyeing him rather skeptically up and down. His gaze lingers on Tim’s lipstick-red mouth for a moment before he smirks and says; “you won’t.” 

Tim attempts to make his exaggerated gasp seem mocking but he sees the flush spread across his own cheeks. “No, look, these boots were made for _stepping,”_ he says, spinning around and heading towards the bed. Jon’s smirk widens into a wicked little smile as Tim climbs onto the bed and he sticks his foot out in an attempt to keep him at bay. 

“Stay away, I’m clean and I don’t want your makeup on me,” he complains, but Tim is not to be deterred, grabbing Jon’s ankle and tossing it out of the way so he can crawl up his body. Jon attempts to wiggle away but only serves to end up flat on his back as Tim plants his arms on either side of his head, effectively trapping him. 

He squints threateningly up at Tim, smile still tugging at his pursed lips. “You might as well take the heels off, too.” He says. 

Tim raises his eyebrows high. “No way!”

“They’ll hurt to kneel in.”

_“You little—“_

Jon snorts with laughter as Tim leans down and shoves his nose under Jon’s chin, licking wetly at his throat. He shoves pathetically at Tim’s chest as he squirms, laughter shaking his shoulders. _“Stop,_ you get those boots off the _bed,_ Tim, _Tim—“_

“Martin is going to _swoon_ when he sees this devastating look, you haunchy bastard, just you wait—” 

“What’s all this about me swooning?” 

Martin’s unexpected voice from the doorway jumps them both. Tim snaps to attention, sitting straight up like a startled rabbit as Jon barks out a surprised laugh, covering his mouth with a hand. 

Seeming to have already assessed the situation, Martin leans against the doorway and raises his eyebrows. He’s obviously just in from the cold, cheeks ruddy but free of his coat and shoes, looking remarkably attractive in a grey henley that Tim curses the fucking existence of. 

“Hi.” Tim says dumbly, flashing a breathless smile. “Nothing.”

“When I said I didn’t mind coming home to you two fucking like bunnies, this wasn’t exactly what I was referring to,” Martin quips, giving Tim a slow once over that is _just_ disaffected enough to get a rise out of him. 

Tim knows he’s being baited into asking for attention; showing his belly. He doesn’t care; he takes it, giving Martin a pout as he rolls onto his ass, letting his knees fall apart in a shameless display. Jon muffles another snorting laugh and Tim ignores him. “That’s all you have to say?” He complains.

Martin’s eyes flick right to where Tim wants them, the narrow strip of fabric between his thighs, and then back up to his face. 

“I think you’d better get those boots off the bed.” Martin says levelly. 

Narrowing his eyes, Tim reaches down and unzips one red boot. He pointedly does not look at Jon as he removes it, tossing it on the ground and then repeats with the other. When he’s finished he settles huffily back into the same position he was in before, leaning back on his elbows, legs spread invitingly. 

Jon shoves at his thigh with a foot, smirking again. Tim pinches him. 

Martin ignores them, smiling like he’s just now seeing Tim for the first time. “Now don’t you look lovely. Where on earth did you get this?” 

“I found it in my stuff. Someone bought it for me ages ago.”

_“Someone?”_

“Me, I bought it for me ages ago. Forgot about it, found it, here I am.”

Finally Martin steps towards them and the room grows still, save for him; Tim can feel as Jon sobers slightly, watching them with an air of anticipation. When Martin gets to the edge of the bed, his eyes drop to Tim’s mouth and he reaches out, gripping Tim’s chin lightly and tipping it up. Spellbound, Tim nearly lets his head loll before catching himself with a blink and a sharp inhale. The headband in his hair tugs slightly with the movement but stays, snug. 

“You smeared your lipstick.” Martin says, sounding genuinely rather concerned. He flicks his eyes back up to meet Tim’s gaze and his eyebrows furrow slightly. “I would have liked to do that.”

Tim blinks at him, suddenly very aware of just how little there is between how wet he’s about to be and everything else. “Christ, Martin.” He mutters, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again Martin is smiling, that stupid smug little smile that he’s honestly picked up from Jon and that he smiles when he reminds everyone of just how tightly he’s got Tim wrapped around his finger.

Tim shuts his eyes again just to hide that he’s rolling them and sighs in admission. “I can fix it, baby, if you wanna mess it up again.” 

Martin releases his chin and steps back. “I think you’d better get on your knees first, since you’ve dressed for that occasion.” 

For a moment Tim just looks at him, pretending he’s deciding if he’s going to obey. He is, of course; he’s wearing _bunny ears_ for Christ’s sake. 

And Martin knows it, so he doesn’t even wait for Tim to move, ignoring him as he turns to greet Jon properly. He sits on the edge of the bed and Jon scoots over to wrap an arm around his neck and kiss him softly, murmuring his hellos. 

Tim watches them for a second, affection warm in his chest as Martin laughs lightly at whatever Jon whispers to him. Then, taking advantage of the momentary lack of eyes on him, he crawls off the bed without trying very hard to look sexy. 

The mirror is his first stop, and he sits in view of it, far enough from the bed that he can still see Jon from his place on the ground. Then he inspects the damage he’s done. It’s minimal, and he leaves the smear of lipstick under his mouth for Martin to deal with, adjusting his ears. They probably won’t stay on for long, but that’s not up to him either. 

He looks nice. He _feels_ nice, more than a little turned on by how the outfit draws attention to his shoulders and thighs and makes his waist look slim. That and he’s been vividly imagining the way Martin’s hands are going to feel through the satin. 

When he’s satisfied he turns around, settling with his back to the glass. Might as well give an easy full view of the look, after all. As he tucks his heels underneath himself he bitterly notes that Jon was right; the boots would have sucked to kneel in.

After a few moments Martin leaves Jon, who settles back against the pillows. He walks past Tim to the dresser where he grabs the lipstick sitting there and then opens the top drawer, clearly with some sort of plan. They all know what that drawer contains, and Tim watches curiously to see what he will pull out. 

It’s Tim’s brown leather collar that he holds for them to see, eyebrow lifted in question. To even his own surprise, Tim’s nose scrunches in indecision. “It doesn’t _match.”_ He says dejectedly. “The tights are black.”

Jon snorts behind them. “You’re really going to pass it up because of that?”

“No, it’s fine.” Martin says before Tim can snark back. “I’ve got an idea.”

After rummaging around in the drawer for a few moments longer Martin turns with a smile, holding up a length of shiny red ribbon. Tim’s eyes light up immediately. “Good?” Martin asks, already stepping back towards them. 

_“Yeah,”_ Tim breathes, arousal making his toes curl as Martin drops into a crouch in front of him. “Have we always had that?”

“I thought you stuck it in there. I don’t know.” Martin muses, putting the lipstick down next to him and sliding the ribbon absentmindedly between his fingers as he motions for Tim to tip up his head. Tim obeys, and his breath quickens as Martin’s fingers brush against the nape of his neck, the ribbon pressing flat just beneath it. He smooths it as he goes and then sticks one finger underneath it as he ties what Tim assumes is a neat bow. 

“Kinda wish I hadn’t turned around now.” Tim murmurs as Martin drags his fingertips over Tim’s jaw and then grips his chin. 

“You look unfairly perfect, Tim. You’ll just have to take my word for it.” He responds, swiping under Tim’s lip with a thumb. Dissatisfaction creases his forehead and he takes his hand back to stick his thumb in his mouth before he tries again. This time it appears to work, with a little scrubbing, and he smiles at his success. The lipstick cap makes a satisfying little pop when he opens it and Tim has to ball his fists up at his sides to keep himself in check as Martin gently tilts his face again. His eyebrows furrow slightly in concentration as he drags the pigment over Tim’s upper lip, and Tim lets out a shaky breath. He can’t tear his eyes away from Martin’s as they watch his mouth so intensely, eyelashes shuttering them in a way that makes Tim’s heart ache. 

Martin does the bottom lip in two more confident swipes and then smiles again at his handiwork. When he meets Tim’s eye again there’s adoration clear in his gaze, and heat, and Tim is feeling like he needs that lipstick fucked up again _now,_ right now, immediately.

“Fuck _me,”_ he breathes, he can’t help it. Martin grins as he tosses the lipstick towards a soft landing. 

“Okay.” He says, and the glint in his eye should have been a warning but it catches Tim off guard anyways and he jolts as Martin’s fingertips slide over the satin between his legs. He hadn’t even noticed himself leaning forward, pushing off his knees enough to make room for such an attack, and he whimpers loudly as the velvety pressure skims over his dick, sending a shock into his core and leaving him throbbing. 

“I know I just put you down here but I want you back on the bed please, pretty boy.” Martin orders sweetly, standing as he speaks. 

Tim gapes up at him for a second, already feeling dazed with arousal. Then he follows, trying for graceful as he gets to his feet but feeling like he fails. Before he’s even straightened up, Martin’s arm is slipping around his waist and tugging him close with a firm hand at the small of his back. Tim gasps as he is pulled forward, catching himself against Martin’s chest and the end of the noise is swallowed as Martin kisses him soundly. Tim melts into it, opening up eagerly as Martin licks into his mouth. He’s finally getting the reaction he’s been waiting for as Martin clearly fails to control himself. 

When Martin pulls away abruptly, he’s breathing almost as heavily as Tim is, mouth smudged with red. His expression goes a bit dazed when his eyes flick to Tim’s mouth, lingering there, and Tim can’t help but grin wildly. When he does Martin snaps back to attention, narrowing his eyes slightly. 

“Don’t go getting all smug just because you know how hot you are.” He complains, gripping Tim’s waist with both hands and roughly turning him to face away from the bed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tim throws back, still grinning. “How hot _am_ I?”

With a good shove, Martin sweeps his legs from under him and he lands on the bed in front of Jon with an _oomph._ The breath leaves his lungs and with it the rest of the blood from his brain. He imagines what a sight he must make as he pushes up on one elbow, wiping at his mouth and looking up at Martin with eyes that dare him to do worse. 

And Martin doesn’t waste a second before following, kneeling over him and crowding him down onto the mattress. He fists a hand in Tim’s hair, tugging his head back almost painfully far as he drags his mouth up Tim’s throat. 

Tim moans outright when Martin bites under his jaw, arching dramatically up towards him. The moan ends choked as Martin presses lips to his ear and murmurs. “You look astonishing, and I want to see you ruined.”

“Fuck, _fuck, Martin, please,”_ Tim pants, squirming with arousal. He’s _throbbing_ between his legs now, chest tight and face hot. “What do I have to do for you to fuck me?”

“Go get Jon out of his pants. I’ll be back.” Martin steals one more scalding kiss before he sits back on his knees. 

Tim is turning the second Martin moves, looking to Jon eagerly. “Joining us?” He asks as he crawls nearly into Jon’s lap, crowding him back against the headboard again. Jon regards him coolly, reaching up to thumb hopelessly at the red on his cheek. 

“Martin asked nicely.” He says, and wiggles a finger under the ribbon at Tim’s neck. Tim groans softly as Jon tugs on it, pulling him forward for a kiss. 

“Mm, given up on being clean hmm?” Tim murmurs when they pull apart, pressing a kiss to Jon’s cheekbone just in case he has anything left to smudge and then returning to his mouth. Jon just humphs and shifts, bending his knee and pressing it firmly between Tim’s legs. 

Tim’s knees nearly give out at the sensation and he moans, reaching up to cup Jon’s face, kisses growing heated and slick as he pulls him ever closer. When the bed dips behind them Tim ignores it, unwilling to pull away from Jon’s mouth. Vaguely remembering his instructions though, he slips his fingertips under the elastic of Jon’s sweatpants. 

“Off?” He prompts and Jon hums agreeably, lifting his hips from the bed. Deftly Tim tugs them down as far as he can but is finally forced to pull away from the kiss. It’s worth it to see Jon, mouth faintly tinged pink and hair ruffled. With some maneuvering Tim gets the pants entirely out of the way and tosses them, then skimming his palm back up Jon’s bare leg. He’s not wearing anything under them, and it leaves him clad only in Martin’s roomy sweatshirt, which is hotter than it has any right to be. 

“Now what, boss?” Tim doesn’t take his eyes off of Jon but they all know the question is for Martin, who has settled just behind him. 

Martin just puts a hand between Tim’s bare shoulder blades and pushes. He doesn’t have to try very hard; as soon as Tim gets the idea he practically dives between Jon’s legs. Eagerly he nudges Jon’s thighs apart and settles between them, kneeling like he’s about to pray. Jon’s eyes are soft and dark as he watches, traces of that smug smile still dancing on his lips. He reaches out to card his fingers softly through Tim’s hair, feeling over the headband and up one ear. “Silly,” he mutters. 

“But the tail?” Tim grins, wiggling his hips back and forth. 

Jon quirks a smile. “Even more fun from this angle.”

“Go ahead, Tim. And don’t tease.” Martin says, occupied with something. Curious, Tim tries to turn his head to see but Jon catches him by the chin. He shifts, tugging up the sweatshirt so that his lower stomach— and everything below— is exposed in clear invitation.

Tim has to swallow thickly due to the sudden excess of saliva in his mouth. He doesn’t complain about the distraction either, or waste any time, obediently leaning in to nose at the thatch of curls and slide two fingers up the length of Jon’s slit. There’s a little moisture there, but he’s going to have to work for more. Not very hard, apparently, as he feels more pooling on his second press of fingertips. Jon gasps softly as Tim scissors his fingers, spreading him open and kitten-licking over the soft exposed head of his dick. 

Jon’s fingers skate more roughly through his hair, conveniently pushing the ears off and letting them fall onto the bed. Tim spares a short moment to mourn their inevitable loss. The fingers continue on, dancing at the nape of his neck and then tugging on the ribbon, making Tim gasp. 

“No teasing.” Jon says, and it’s not that so much as the need to rid his tone of that fucking smugness that prompts Tim to comply. He sucks Jon into his mouth, pressing with his tongue until Jon lets out a little whimper and squirms. 

Martin chooses that moment to rub between Tim’s legs again without warning, and the groan it punches out of Tim makes Jon even louder as it vibrates around him.

Fingers through the satin feels simultaneously like heaven and like a horrible tease, and Tim’s back bends as he pushes back against Martin’s hand. When Martin gets a finger under the crotch of the teddy and tugs it to the side, Tim draws in a shaking breath through his nose— he remembers how the fishnets looked when they were the only thing he had on. The muscles at his core tense with a pulse of arousal as he is exposed and Martin _groans_ at the sight of him. 

_“Jon._ the tights are like this _all the way up.”_

Jon snickers, but his voice is a bit breathless when he speaks. “I know. What did you think?” 

“I don’t know, just wasn’t expecting _this,_ fuck, Tim, you should _see_ yourself.” Tim can’t respond, he can barely fucking breath as he feels Martin pull the tights taut and the threads dig into his cunt. “Such a pretty little dick,” Martin murmurs, and Tim shudders, pulling away from Jon with a small cry as Martin skips straight to pressing two fingers shallowly into him through the holes in the tights. It’s _easy,_ bafflingly so because he’s _soaked,_ and the sudden intrusion sends a shock of pleasure through him, like a hot flash. 

The fingers withdraw quickly though, not pressing very far before Martin takes them back and Tim whines at the loss, pushing his hips back to chase them. “Shh,” Martin soothes. “I just need some more room. Pay attention to your job.”

There’s the sound of threads snapping as Martin rips the tights. Tim glares up at Jon for a moment as Jon smirks. “Just got them _yesterday,”_ Tim complains. 

Jon snorts and pets at his hair, pushing his head back down. “Shut up, Tim.” 

As Tim closes his mouth around Jon again, Martin thumbs at his dick, drawing out another moan from Tim that makes Jon’s back arch. 

“You’re both very sensitive today,” Martin muses, pressing his fingers back into Tim, properly this time, crooking them just right. Tim makes an incoherent happy sound in reply, pushing his hips back eagerly. 

“Tim has been waiting a while for you,” Jon says, his nails scraping gently at Tim’s scalp. Tim can feel himself slipping away, just a little bit. It’s not often he gets all floaty, even when his boys take charge like this, but something about it all is making him feel blessedly lost. 

When Martin speaks again, Tim has to shake himself a little in order to make his brain comprehend the words. “Picked the big one for you, ‘s that okay?” Martin asks neutrally.

For a moment Tim draws a complete blank, all his focus spoken for with Jon twitching under his tongue and Martin working a third finger into him. _Ah._ He’s getting _fucked._

Tim comes up for air, catching Jon’s dick between finger and thumb and stroking firmly. “The strapless one?” 

“Mmhm.”

 _“God_ yes, want you to come while you’re inside me,” Tim replies, kissing at the crease of Jon’s thigh. The toy in question is one of their favorites, a thick double sided thing that sits perfect inside whoever is topping— both of them have made use of it, but Martin is especially sensitive, and Tim loves to feel his hips stutter against him as he comes apart. 

Martin lets a sharp intake of breath betray how Tim’s words affect him. “Yeah,” he says simply. “Yes.”

Jon tugs on the front of the ribbon and Tim looks up, biting at his lip. Jon looks so good like this, always, but tonight he’s really something, hair loose and curling around his shoulders, that little smile a near permanent fixture at this point. He gives Tim a knowing look, shaking his head slightly in fond exasperation when Tim winks. He tugs down on the ribbon and raises an eyebrow and Tim’s grin widens. “Ready whenever you are, sweetheart.” He says, ducking his head to return to the task at hand.

“Oh I know you are.” Martin says, and the fingers slip away. Sweet anticipation buzzes under Tim’s skin and he wraps a hand around Jon’s thigh, waiting for the pressure that he wants. He feels Martin stroke up his thigh and grab a handful of his ass, squeezing once before letting go and resting there. Tim’s cunt throbs; he feels hot all over, heart thudding in his ears, he’s so _fucking_ turned on.

Then, instead of a dick, there’s hot breath and a wet tongue and Tim lets out an embarrassingly loud desperate sound, nails digging into Jon’s skin for a long moment. He wants to curse but his mouth is full so he just whines loudly in the back of his throat, pushing back against Martin’s mouth as fervently as he can manage. Martin doesn’t tease, fucking Tim with his tongue until Tim groans so loud that Jon’s thighs start to shake. 

Then he pulls away, and Tim is only disappointed for the time it takes for Martin to press the blunt end of the strap against him, dragging it down over his dick and then back up. 

“Martin,” Jon pleads. “I hate to rush you, but if you were expecting me to wait— _hhfuck, Tim,”_

Tim smiles to himself, nosing down to do something less perfect with his tongue and allow Jon a breath or two. 

“He’s smug, Martin, come on.” 

“Alright, alright,” Martin placates, sliding his hand up slow to push his fingers under the edge of the teddy and dig them into Tim’s hip. When he pushes in there’s very little resistance; Tim is so soaked that after a brief tug it just glides, all the way, a bit fast and it punches a strangled moan from him as he is suddenly, achingly full.

“Christ,” Jon breathes. “You took that so well.”

Tim’s eyes roll back just a little, the words hitting him like a slap. Vaguely he realizes that he’s about to not be very effective, so he clumsily seals his mouth around Jon’s dick, flicking his tongue just right. 

It’s immediately successful; Jon grunts and then lets out a lovely trembling sigh as he twitches and comes. Tim moans at the little gush of slick that coats his tongue, rubbing at Jon’s hip with his thumb. Martin makes a soft noise of surprise behind them, and Tim can practically see the look on his face. He always looks at Jon in the same starry eyed way as he falls apart.

When Jon pushes gently at his forehead, Tim obediently pulls back, panting open mouthed as he looks up at Jon through heavy lidded eyes. A drunken smile twitches onto his face as he sees no trace of smugness in Jon’s face for the moment. Still breathing heavy, Jon squints at him and then glances up at Martin. “Give it to him, come on.”

“Bossy,” Martin murmurs, and Tim laughs brightly as Martin tugs on his ribbon and then grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling him up by it. With a little effort, Tim obediently sits up on his knees, spearing himself even further on the cock as he does. The laugh trails off into a heavy sigh as it stretches him, sending pulses of pleasure through his cunt and up his spine. Martin’s hand settles at the base of his throat as he pulls Tim back against his chest, solid and warm and Tim’s head lolls back against his shoulder. 

“Mmm _yeah_ Martin, _give it to me,”_ he slurs teasingly, reaching up to slide his hand up Martin’s arm, slotting their fingers together and urging him to squeeze. 

Martin easily resists him, closing his fist and trapping Tim’s hand in his grasp. He noses behind Tim’s ear and down his neck as he pulls out almost all the way, in a slow drag that makes Tim shiver and tense around it. Then he shoves back in and Tim yelps, back arching but Martin’s hand on his hip slides around to press flat on his stomach, just under his navel, keeping his hips still. 

Briefly Tim wonders if the strap is long enough that Martin could feel the bulge of it under his palm and the thought sends him reeling, so much so that on Martin’s next thrust he chokes and tenses and comes, _hard._ The orgasm takes him completely off guard, knocks the wind out of him and when Martin’s hips stutter in surprise he lets out an undignified gurgling moan.

“Jesus Christ, Tim, are you—“

 _“Don’t stop,”_ Tim gasps, grabbing Martin’s wrist so that he doesn’t move his hand away. 

“Fuck, _God,_ okay, shit,” Martin stutters, and he sounds _gone,_ when he fucks up into Tim again he lets out a soft broken sound that he muffles against Tim’s shoulder. Tim sees stars, oversensitive nearly to the point of pain but it’s so good, so perfect and he’s too greedy to give himself a break.

He hadn’t realized he’d let his eyes close until there’s a hand on his cheek and he blinks them open to see Jon, for just a brief moment before he’s being kissed. As Jon claims his mouth Martin bites down on his shoulder, surely leaving a mark. 

“You two are gorgeous,” Jon murmurs as he pulls away from Tim, and then Martin makes a happy little noise by his ear as Jon kisses him, too. “Perfect.”

“I—“ Martin starts as Jon pulls away, sitting back on his heels. Tim can barely keep track of what’s happening, too gone to care.

“I want to see, I—“ he pulls his hand away from Tim’s stomach and taps his hip, slowing his pace and Tim whines. “Tim, want you on your back, c’mon, please.”

Begrudgingly Tim complies, gasping sharply when the dildo slips out of him. Jon moves back, making room and Tim crawls between his legs again, pressing a messy kiss to the side of his neck before twisting around and settling. 

He sees Martin then, finally, and he looks so fucking debauched that Tim’s stomach lurches pleasantly— hair mussed for some reason, mouth still faintly smudged with red. He’d kept all his clothes on, just tugging down his trousers and pants enough to get the strap inside him and the light curls between his legs are just visible above it. Which, in contrast to Tim’s state of exposure, is so hot Tim thinks he might just die. It’s the look on Martin’s face that really takes the cake though, and makes Tim’s getup well and truly worth the money. He looks equal parts dangerously hungry and plaintively enamored as he hurriedly follows them, kneeling between Tim’s legs. With abnormal roughness he grabs Tim’s thighs and drags him down, pulling him onto his lap. 

_“Martin,”_ Tim gasps, squirming in his grip as he tugs the crotch of the teddy out of the way again and then pushes three fingers into Tim’s messy cunt, fucking him with quick strokes. _“Fuck,”_ Tim moans, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Martin’s face because the way he’s looking at him, it’s almost like the way Jon looks at things that he wants to _know,_ and it’s _everything._

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Tim, what on earth did I do to deserve you, both of you, I—“

When Tim reaches out for him he comes in an instant, folding down into his arms and crushing their mouths together in a bruising kiss that quickly turns messy. When the fingers inside Tim slow with distraction he bucks and tugs at Martin’s hair. “Fuck me, Martin, fuck me, c’mon,” he breathes between kisses.

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin gasps in return, and fumbles between their legs for a moment before guiding the cock to Tim’s entrance again. When he pushes clumsily inside this time there’s a twinge of pain and then sweet overwhelming fullness, and Tim sighs happily as he lets Martin lick into his mouth. 

Martin fucks him quick and off rhythm; Tim would almost have the presence of mind to feel self-satisfied were he able to get a full lungful of air but he very much cannot. Martin pulls away from his mouth to lick messily over his jaw and then sets about peppering his chest and his shoulders with marks that will last all week. 

Jon is petting over his hair almost absentmindedly and a laugh bubbles up in Tim as he tips his head up to look, finds Jon looking down at them almost serenely as they rut desperately against each other. It’s so ridiculous, all of a sudden, and he feels so _fond._ “I love you,” he breathes, to Jon, to both of them. He twists and presses a kiss into Martin’s curls, presses it there too; “I love you, Martin, love you.”

The soft little whine Martin muffles against Tim’s throat makes Tim ache, and he moans as Martin stiffens, shoving deep as he grinds in jerky little circles. It’s vaguely difficult for Tim to wriggle a hand between them but he manages it, gasping as he gets his fingers on his dick. He’s close, getting closer by the second as Martin unconsciously rocks the toy as deep as it can go, quivering through an impressively long orgasm. Tim coos in his ear, mostly blissed out nonsense until his own peak comes, a slow and overwhelming thing that makes his ears ring. 

Martin shifts, mostly boneless on top of him now, pressing little kisses under his jaw and petting over the satin on his ribs. 

“That was quite a romp,” Jon says, combing his fingers gentle through Martin’s hair now. “I dare say it ended in a draw.” 

Martin giggles as Tim scoffs. “How gracious of you, benevolent game master.” 

Jon just smirks. Tim squints at him and squirms uncomfortably, very quickly realizing that having damp lingerie on is not very comfortable— the damn tail is digging into his spine. Gently he pushes at Martin’s shoulder. “I have got to get this thing off, babe.”

With a heavy sigh Martin pushes up on his elbows. There’s a sweaty curl stuck to the side of his face and he looks awfully pretty, all fucked out. Tim bites his lip. “And you should also get naked, for no reason.”

Martin laughs, gripping Tim’s hip firmly as he gingerly pulls out. Tim hisses as it goes, leaving him stinging a bit. “Yeah, this whole clothed sex thing is severely romanticized. It is _not_ comfortable.” 

Tim gives him a fake pout as he sits up. “It was very sexy, though.” 

“Mmhm, sure,” Martin hums as he pulls his shirt over his head. Tim crawls over and shoves his hands in Martin’s pants, pushing them down further and then gripping the toy. 

“Can I?” He asks and Martin nods. “I mean it though,” Tim continues as he eases the toy out, dragging his fingers through the irresistible wet mess between Martin’s legs just once. “You’re fucking hot, Martin.”

Martin twitches and sucks in a breath. “I’m glad you think so.” He says gently. Tim rolls his eyes and pulls him down for a kiss. 

“You’re a fucking weapon in this outfit,” Martin murmurs when they pull apart. “Next time you wear this I’m gonna sit you on a vibe and watch you fall apart from across the room.”

Tim’s dick throbs weakly and he shoves at Martin, who grins wickedly. “Jesus _Christ,_ do we need to go again?”

“I’m going to _sleep,”_ Jon interjects from behind them. “So if you do, you can do it in the shower.” 

“Oh no, you’re coming to the shower with us. You’re not clean anymore you nasty man.” Tim says threateningly, sitting back down. “Unzip me, please?”

Jon sighs and obliges, dancing his fingers over Tim’s shoulders as he does. “Feeling especially orally fixated today, Martin?” He asks, pressing down on what is apparently a good nasty bruise judging from the lovely pain that throbs under it. Tim hums happily. 

“I don’t know how you didn’t, with his shoulders looking like they do in that thing,” Martin shoots back, tossing his pants towards the hamper. 

Tim feels Jon’s hair brush against his spine and then there’s a soft mouth there, pressing a kiss and then gently suckling for a long moment. Jon seals his mark with another kiss and then pulls away. “You make a valid point,” he says softly. Tim’s stomach flips with affection. 

“Alright, everyone up,” he says, wiggling his way out of the tights and everything all at once. “I want to kiss in the shower.”

Before he can hop off the bed, Martin stops him with a hand. With two fingers he tugs on the end of the ribbon Tim had almost forgotten about and it comes undone, sliding off. Tim blinks up at him and then his eyes slip shut as Martin leans down, nudging his chin up for a kiss. 

“I didn’t say I love you, too.” He says, then. Tim breathes out slowly, content. 

“You didn’t have to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to Steve for commissioning this immensely gooey thing, I had a blast writing it!


End file.
